


One Night Only

by Twisted_Barbie



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Angst, Body Worship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Pining, robron - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 03:06:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11682732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Barbie/pseuds/Twisted_Barbie
Summary: Aaron had left and their house was not a home without him and yet there Robert remained.'He gazes up at him then, disheartened to see his head is lowered in shame. He gets to his feet and presses a finger beneath Aaron’s chin, lifting his head. He gazes into eyes that reflect a fractured soul and he plucks a kiss from his downturned lips. He takes another and then one more, each as beautiful as the first but marred with the bitter taste of his tears.'





	One Night Only

The thin satin sheet wrapped tightly around Robert’s legs as he tossed and turned, flailing helplessly onto his back. He glared at the ceiling illuminated by the moonlight spilling in through the blinds before groaning in frustration and petulantly turning onto his right side. The space beside him was empty and the sheets were cold to the touch. Robert swallowed the lump in his throat and reached for the unused pillow and brought it to his face and breathed deeply. The ruby satin pillowcase still had a faint smell of Aaron’s coconut shampoo that always stung his eyes but now his eyes watered for another reason. 

He clutched the pillow tightly, desperately and allowed the material to soak up his tears that ran freely down his cheeks. He didn’t want to be alone, he couldn’t stand it. It had always been his biggest fear to die alone. Unloved he could live with, he’d had his fair share of loveless relationships but alone, truly alone, was his deepest darkest fear. It made him irrational at times, and was to blame for this whole sorry saga with Rebecca. Paid companionship would be preferable to this living hell. 

“I think you’ll find that’s mine.” 

He sits up abruptly and rubs at his tear-swollen eyes in disbelief. His vision is blurred and he blinks rapidly, mouth gaping as the apparition of Aaron remains. He turns his head, looking over his left shoulder towards his nightstand where a glass sits with a drop of whiskey staining the bottom. Reluctantly he turns back towards his alcoholic delusion and a single tear escapes the corner of his eye as Aaron is still there leaning against the wall shrouded by the pale moonlight. 

He kicks off the tangled covers in his need to be with Aaron and then crawls towards the end of the bed slow and sultry though he fears he comes across as desperate as he feels. Aaron merely inclines his head, with blue eyes filled with tears sparkling like sapphires as he presses his weight against the wall finding comfort in its solid foundation. He was responsible for that lack of strength. He should have been Aaron’s support system.

He drops his feet onto the floor and sits on the end of the bed. Their bed. There is a gulf between them, dividing them and he wants to scream but fears his cries would simply echo in the chasm and fall on deaf ears. In his drunken stupor words had poured from his mouth like a fine wine and now he has need of them none are forthcoming. 

“Aaron?” He tries to express all he feels into his name but the words feel hollow on his tongue and sound deadpan when spoken aloud. Aaron remains by the wall, ethereal in the moonlight, beautifully broken like a porcelain doll. He wants to take him into his arms and put him back together again. 

“Please Aaron.” He opens his arms in his seated position, begging, pleading with Aaron to fill them. To come home. With trepidation, Aaron leaves the safety the wall provides and walks over to him. He parts his thighs on instinct, perhaps overtly sexual but their bodies had their own language that they would not dare to speak. 

Aaron comes to him, drawn in like a moth to a flame and he has made him burn in his light. He’s tired of inadvertently hurting him, he means to heal not wound. He reaches up and pushes the open fleece jacket from Aaron’s shoulders and Aaron follows his lead, taking off the jacket and discarding it onto the floor. He then takes a hold of the bottom of Aaron’s black T-shirt and attempts to lift it before Aaron bats at his hands half-heartedly. 

He gazes up at him then, disheartened to see his head is lowered in shame. He gets to his feet and presses a finger beneath Aaron’s chin, lifting his head. He gazes into eyes that reflect a fractured soul and he plucks a kiss from his downturned lips. He takes another and then one more, each as beautiful as the first but marred with the bitter taste of his tears.

“I love you.” He breathes against Aaron’s lips as they press their foreheads together. He means for it to be reassuring but his declaration is met with silence and silence breeds suspicion. His words are no longer valid, just empty whispers in the dark. He has no right to be offended but Aaron’s suspicion of him- though warranted- still hurts.

He attempts to lift Aaron’s shirt again and Aaron allows him to, raising his arms in compliance so he can take it off and cast it aside. He gazes at his torso that has become a canvas for his pain and he is not disgusted by it only hurt that he had missed the signs of self-abused a second time. Aaron has lost weight, not too much to become worried but enough to notice and he hadn’t. His beautiful husband had been suffering and he hadn’t noticed. 

He places his hands on his husband’s hips and turns him, switching positions so Aaron is by the bed. He takes another lingering kiss, revelling in the taste of him but Aaron is unmoved by his reverent kisses, too lost in the maelstrom of his mind. Reluctantly he ends the kiss feeling like a thief instead of a devoted husband. 

“I love you and I get that you don’t believe me but it’s true, let me show you.” Actions speak louder than words and he hopes to convey all he cannot say in touches and kisses. He never could properly express himself, neither could Aaron, in that regard they were both emotionally stunted. They lived their lives in excess, when they loved it was all consuming and when they hated they showed no mercy. 

He guides Aaron down onto the bed and tries to ignore the exasperated sigh rather than the hitched breath of pleasure. Still, it gives him pause and Aaron is able to kick off his trainers before moving up the bed and lying on his back in the centre. He looks like a fallen angel, beautiful and divine with skin akin to alabaster against the crimson fitted sheet. 

He climbs onto the bed and crawls over to him, bracing himself on hands and knees above him. Aaron lays still beneath him, arms raised above his head in surrender and blue eyes half-lidded in challenge. It is a look he knows well and he feels his heart pound in his chest. He wets his lips, salivating at the thought of devouring the meal before him and wondering how he had allowed himself to become so starved. 

He steals another kiss before pressing a subtler kiss at the corner of his mouth. He then gazes into eyes that glow predatory in the moonlight, seeking permission and is awarded a beatific smile. He returns it, basking in the sweetest of victories before pressing a kiss to his bearded chin and then two more down the column of his throat. 

He pauses to look over the myriad of scars decorating Aaron’s chest. It had been littered with cuts before, some were short and shallow, intended to hurt to momentarily distract him from painful memories. Those were healed now but five remained along the breast, long and deep, done in an attempt to get the cancerous thoughts from beneath his skin. He presses his lips against one above Aaron’s left nipple and traces the white healed skin with the tip of his tongue. He feels Aaron shift uncomfortably beneath him, ashamed of his self-mutilation but he persists and shapes the scar with his tongue before laying a kiss over it. 

He moves on to the next one, shorter but undoubtedly deeper and traces it. They were apart of Aaron now and to wholly accept Aaron then he must not only acknowledge them but learn to love them as they are a part of his beautiful disaster of a husband. He was scarred too, though he did not wear his. His damage could be seen through his actions, an over-achiever always on the pursuit of something more, better, because he was better. Better than a farmer’s son, better than Jack ever thought he could be. He wasn’t satisfied with just making a living and leading a mediocre life, he wasn’t Jack and he never would be. 

He plants a kiss and moves on to the next scar, providing the same treatment, committing each one to memory by taste and design. He then licks his way down Aaron’s torso and enjoys the way his stomach tightens and a stifled moan leaves his bitten red lips. The scars on his stomach are new and he fights back tears knowing he had caused them. He swallows the lump in his throat before kissing the widest cut to the left of his bellybutton. 

He mouths, ‘sorry’ against the wound, because he is. He’s so sorry and this thing between them, it can’t end, it can’t be finished. His own thoughts get the better of him and tears escape his eyes and splash against Aaron’s skin. A word is not said in explanation, instead Aaron brings his right arm down and cards his fingers through his tousled blond hair.

He finds comfort in his touch and he raises his head and leans into his caressing hand. He’s tried to be strong for the both of them but he can’t be Aaron’s port in a storm when he feels set adrift himself. They need each other. Aaron claims he doesn’t like who he is when he is with him but he doesn’t like who he becomes without Aaron. He wants to be a better man, he does, truly, for Aaron’s sake and he knows if Aaron would just give him another chance he can prove himself. He can be better, he _will_ be better. 

He sits back on his haunches and turns his face against Aaron’s hand and places a reverent kiss against the palm. He had meant for it to be innocent, grateful, but he finds himself dragging his lips across his palm before running his tongue up the index finger. Heat pools in his groin at Aaron’s hitched breath which encourages him to press a kiss against the pad of his finger before taking the tip of it into his mouth. His hair falls into his eyes as he looks through the blond strands eyeing his quarry with lust-filled eyes. Aaron stares back at him with want so tangible he can feel it against his skin like a lover’s caress. He sucks on the tip of his finger, hollowing his cheeks to convey intent. His words were no good and his actions had always had volume to them and he needs to break through the wall that had been built between them. 

He holds Aaron’s hand still with his left hand in fear he might withdraw from him while ghosting his fingers down Aaron’s chest, tracing the remaining scars. Aaron squirms beneath him, tickled by his touch but he doesn’t laugh. Instead he simply stares at him with an indiscernible look on his face but with passion-darkened eyes. 

He wants to speak, to proclaim his love, to tell Aaron how fucking beautiful he is but it would only be a useless litany of words, cheap, like a bottle of plonk from David’s. Instead he takes the finger further into his mouth as his hand moves to the bulge of Aaron’s jeans and rubs over the tented denim. Each ragged breath that expels from Aaron’s mouth encourages his advances as he curls his tongue around the finger tasting the tang of metal against his taste buds. It isn’t terribly pleasant but he swallows regardless, selfish to his core, wanting to possess every little piece of him, preserve him, own him.

“Robert…” his name whispered desperately ends his train of thought abruptly. He releases Aaron’s finger with an audible pop, unashamedly smacking his lips together as Aaron writhes on the bed, almost driven to the point of ecstasy. He swoops down then, snatching a kiss from parted lips while his hands move to the brown leather belt and unbuckle it. Aaron catches his lower lip between his teeth and gently nibbles on it before running his tongue over the slightly swollen lip. He licks his own lip, chasing the taste of him before pressing their mouths together. He delves his tongue into the warm cavern and delights in the way Aaron’s fingers tightens in his hair. 

He fights blindly with the button on Aaron’s jeans unwilling to end the kiss. It is a dance they have done often and after two false starts he manages to unbutton them and lower the zip. He brings his hands up to Aaron’s neck and strokes his thumbs against the furred jawline still reluctant to leave the inviting warmth of his mouth. Each parting kiss is met with another until he is forced to pull away and press Aaron flat on the mattress when he chases after his lips. He rolls his hips against Aaron’s crotch to reveal his own burning desire swelling between his thighs before moving down the bed and pulling Aaron’s jeans and boxers down and off. He leaves the white socks on as they amuse him and Aaron’s feet get cold at night. It feels domestic and that’s what he wants, some normality. This wasn’t Wiley’s where they had to keep their shoes on in case of daring rats, this was home. Aaron wasn’t a sordid affair he was his husband and his feet were cold at night, he’s had the ice cubes pressed against the back of his calves enough to know. 

He places both hands beneath Aaron’s knees and parts his legs before running his tongue up his inner right thigh. The muscles dance and twitch beneath his teasing touch and his lips twist into a self-satisfied smile. By the time he reaches his pelvis, Aaron’s cock is erect with a pearl drop of jism crowning the head. He moves to capture it with his tongue, savouring the taste and luxuriating in the novelty of it. He had taken this act for granted, always in a hurry for sexual gratification, he had never appreciated the simple kisses or caresses, in that regard- mentally- he was still at Wiley’s. 

It is a testament to Aaron’s restraint that he had balled his hands into fists and pressed them against the headboard instead of gripping his hair and encouraging him to swallow his cock. Aaron was physically aggressive but it was himself whom was sexually aggressive, forcing Aaron to submit to him, almost trivializing their relationship with his desire. Always chasing a high without stopping to think, to appreciate what he had but he had been offered a second chance, he’s sure that’s what this is. He hadn’t bullied Aaron into bed by being overly sexual and using his body against him, or had he? He can’t think around Aaron; the other man drives him crazy and he’s not entirely sure there is enough blood north of his body to conjure a single thought. He knows he loves him and that’s enough- had to be- because he wasn’t sure what would be left of him if Aaron was to leave, he wasn’t sure there was anything else to give. 

He leaves his position to rifle through his bedside table and retrieves the tube of lube before settling back between Aaron’s milky thighs. He twists the cap off and covers two fingers liberally in lube before casting the tube aside. He leans forward and takes the tip of Aaron’s penis into his mouth while he brings his hand up between Aaron’s legs and teasingly circles his hole. He wants Aaron to want him-this-them- he wants his thighs to quiver as he pushes inside of him. He wants his body to quake with lust as his does. He wants Aaron to see his passion, feel it and return it. 

He pushes inside the tight warmth and hums in response to Aaron’s hitched breath sending ripples of pleasure through his body. He means to take his time and commit every detail to memory and to worship Aaron’s body not just derive pleasure from it. But the heat in his groin proves to be too much of a distraction and he could resist everything except temptation. He pushes a second finger inside, pleased to be met with some resistance as he had feared Aaron might play away just to hurt him. When the knives are out they both tended to go for the heart and though he deserved to be cheated on, he doesn’t believe he has the emotional fortitude to simply accept it and move on. 

“Robert, please…” Aaron’s voice is hoarse and as he looks up he can see his face turned into the pillow while his hands are fisted around the fitted sheet. A sheen of sweat covers his torso as he writhes on the bed bathed in moonlight. He seems other-worldly-Godly- in the illumining light that bounces off the contour of his body and in that moment, he is grateful to have known him, to have loved him and for a brief moment, to have bathed in his light. 

He removes his mouth and fingers and quickly pushes his blue briefs down and off, kicking them off into the abyss of the room. Nothing exists except for them and the bed, everything else was just opinion. He picks up the discarded tube and coats his cock in the thick gel. He’s not one for practising safe sex despite the risks, he likes the gamble of it and the feeling of the tight warmth around his cock. He loves to spill inside his husband, laying a claim to him and later seeing Aaron’s thighs damp with his seed. 

He can’t deprive himself any longer; watching Aaron squirming deliciously on the bed ignites a fire in his blood. He grabs him behind the knees once more, parts his legs further and pulls him towards him. Despite their differences their bodies know each other and as he pushes inside of him he feels at peace, whole and safe. 

He wants to savour the moment but all too soon he rolls his hips, drawing sighs of pleasure from each deep thrust. He gazes down at Aaron and sees his cerulean eyes are closed and kiss-swollen lips parted and bitten red to stifle the sounds he now readily makes. He lifts Aaron’s legs higher and presses deeper inside of him feeling his legs quake against his sharp hips. 

“I love you.” Blue eyes open after his declaration and he hates to see the distrust swirling in those soulful orbs. Despite his misgivings, Aaron reaches for him, pulling him into a kiss, licking his way into his mouth and he allows him. He follows Aaron’s lead, meeting him tit for tac as his thrusts become short and sharp, more of a rut then actual love-making. Neither seem to care as their kiss ends but their lips stay pressed together as they pant breathing one another in. 

“I love you,” he reiterates, saying the words against his mouth so he could taste them for himself and know that he spoke the truth. 

“I love you too.” Tears spill down his cheeks from that admission and they share a harsh kiss, two worlds colliding, before he picks up the pace, and angles his thrusts to hit against Aaron’s prostate. He fucks into him with precision, forcing cries of pleasure from his lips as he chases his own euphoria. “I love you.” Aaron cries once more as his back arches and he feels the spray of his cum against his chest. The tightening of his hot channel is his undoing and with a strangled cry he releases his seed inside his husband and lays down atop of him, spent, satisfied and home.

 

Robert awakes with a jerk and sits up finding the satin sheet tangled around his legs. The smell of vodka is prevalent in the air and he turns towards his table to see the upset bottle with its content long since soaked up into the carpet. 

"Aaron?” He calls out to the dead air knowing it had all been a drunken dream. He draws his legs up and hugs then tightly to his chest and cries his heart out against his knees.


End file.
